The Next Day
by Godzillafan93
Summary: Having survived the previous night, the surviving members of STARS Bravo team desperately try to find shelter as they await rescue. They thought the nightmare was over, but some horrors are not nocturnal...  Rated M for language and violence. Follows ITN
1. Scattered

**The Next Day**

_Within mere hours, the Umbrella Corporation suffered two devastating setbacks: the loss of the administrative train the _Ecliptic Express _and the complete destruction of the Hive, a subterranean research lab beneath the Arklay Forest. The Company raced to gain a handle on the situation, calling in some of its most capable and ruthless agents to secure the two sites and recover anything salvageable. _

_ Meanwhile, elements of the Raccoon City Police Department's elite Special Weapons and Tactics Service Bravo Team tried to find each other in the Forest. Enrico Marini, Captain of STARS B Team, already felt the loss of at least one of his men, Edward Dewey, killed by horrors unspeakable, monsters created by Umbrella for war. Rebecca Chambers, the rookie medic for Bravo Team, had faced her own demons, but had survived with the help of Billy Coen, an escaped convict, and Mathias Dawson, a childhood friend. But Mat had been lost when the _Ecliptic Express _crashed, and Rebecca and Billy parted ways in the early morning of July 25__th__. Rebecca left to find the remains of her team, who were taking cover inside what appeared to be an abandoned mansion deep in the forest._

_ The STARS thought their nightmare was over. But some terrors become more gruesome in the daylight…_

Chapter 1

Scattered

(ENRICO)

Enrico Marini watched the first rays of sunlight as they filtered through the broken windows of the conveniently placed mansion he, Forest, and Richard had taken refuge in. They had needed a place to take a quick breather; otherwise Enrico would have pulled them back to their crash site. With luck, Kevin would point Alpha team in their direction, and rescue wouldn't be far away. Otherwise…

_Otherwise, we might all be really, really screwed_ Enrico thought glumly. He looked over his shoulder.

Richard Aiken was stretched out across the steps leading to the mansion's second floor, apparently catching up on some sleep. Enrico didn't hold that against the communications expert, though he did envy the other man. They were all tired, but as captain Enrico was expected to keep an eye on the situation at all times.

_Not_ sleeping was Forest Speyer, Bravo team's explosives expert and marksmen. He was currently leaning up against a wall, his Milkor grenade launcher leaning up against his leg.

Enrico watched as Forest struck a match against the wall, then lit a cigarette he had somehow managed to keep dry throughout their entire journey the previous night. Forest stood smoking, seemingly unconcerned about the situation, but Enrico knew better. The loud Southerner wasn't happy about the way things had gone the last few hours, and Enrico knew he'd have to settle things with Forest sooner or later. All the same, he'd rather do that back at the HQ in Raccoon City then here in some abandoned mansion.

"Why don't you get some shut-eye, Forest?" he said, stepping toward the younger man.

Forest shrugged. "It's alright, sir. I'm okay."

"You sure?"  
Forest nodded. "Yep. Just ready for this all to be over with."

There was nothing in Forest's demeanor to suggest he was upset, but Enrico didn't buy it all the same. He knew that the other man needed something to be doing. _Honestly, that wouldn't be so bad for me either_ Enrico thought to himself.

He walked over to where Richard was stretched out on the stairs. It had to be an uncomfortable place to sleep, but it was also a testament to how tired the STARS were. If Enrico could have fallen asleep standing up, with his eyes open, he would have.

After rousing his communications expert, Enrico addressed the two men who were, for all he knew, the sole survivors of the STARS Bravo team, with volunteer detachments from the regular RPD and SWAT. He shook his head. _How things get this bad, go this wrong?_ He chased such thoughts away a moment later. _Worry about why later. Now, just focus on getting everyone home._

"This mansion is enormous" Enrico said, gesturing about. "It would be expedient to search it completely. We might run into our wayward teammates, or some local caretaker who can get us a phone to call out of here."

Forest looked around and sniffed. "Jeez, Captain. A caretaker? It's obvious that nobody's been here in months, if not years. There's nothing gonna help us get out of this mess."  
Enrico met the outburst with patience. _Worry about Forest later. Just get everyone home_. "There's not a very high likelihood that any_one _useful will be here, but not any_thing. _We need to go over this place top to bottom, make sure we leave no inch uncovered. That way we can be sure we don't miss anything. Any questions?" Neither Forest nor Richard said anything. "Good. Now, Forest, I want you to-" He finished up detailing their plan of search. Enrico would handle the back of the mansion, Richard would take the second floor, and Forest would handle the ground.

"Be sure and come back here if you find anything. Otherwise, we meet back here every hour."

On that note, the three STARS broke apart. Enrico couldn't help remembering that this was how things had gone the night before. Try as he might, he couldn't keep from feeling as if he could've done something better. He had the distinct feeling those wouldn't go away for the rest of his life.

(REBECCA)

Rebecca had spotted the emergency flare in the distance when she had left Billy on the hill. _That's where they are_ she told herself. _Just get there, and it's all over_.

It didn't look like she'd face much resistance on this particular journey. After fighting her way through a laboratory full of horrors, this wasn't going to be so difficult.

_Just look at it that way_ Rebecca told herself. _After everything you've been through, this won't be so hard. Right?_

But Rebecca was exhausted. She'd been running most of the night on pure adrenaline the past few hours, and now that her life was no longer in immediate danger, she was starting to crash. _And that's not good_ Rebecca told herself. _If I pass out in the middle of the forest, no one will ever find me._

She wasn't sure the rest of her team could get on without her, either. What if one of them was critically injured? They could die if she wasn't there to treat them. It was one thing if she died, but quite another if someone else died because she didn't have what it took to make it back to them.

The only thing Rebecca could do was try and lighten her load. The first thing she dumped was the MP5 she had collected from the _Ecliptic Express_. She made sure and took all of the weapon's magazines (since the Samurai Edge fired the same bullet she could use the ammo), then hid the weapon in a pile of brush near a tree. Later, she might come back for it; in the meantime, she hoped she had kept anyone from finding the submachine gun.

She ended up ditching the extra ammo shortly later, though. There was simply no sense in her carrying over two hundred rounds for her handgun. She doubted (she _hoped_) that she wouldn't need that many bullets.

She thought about ditching her bullet proof vest too. She hadn't run into much gunfire in the lab; fortunately, zombies didn't seem to be able to use weapons. The vest had gotten scratched and torn during the fighting, to the point where the large red cross, denoting Rebecca's status as a medic, was all but unrecognizable.

Finally she made up her mind and decided to keep it. It had extra pockets, and that meant she could carry all notebook they had found inside the Umbrella labs.

The notebook was a goldmine of information, and there was no way Rebecca was going to leave it behind somewhere. It detailed Umbrella's dark deeds from all the way back to the 1970's, and would be invaluable in bringing the Company down. And that made everything she and Billy had gone through the previous night worth it.

Rebecca remembered the pained look on Edward's face as he warned her about the dangers lurking in the Arklay Forest, then the look of slack hunger he had had once he had succumbed and joined the other infected. She remembered the look of grim determination on Mat's face the last time she'd seen him, before he had given his life to save her and Billy. The horribly disfigured pile of corpses she and Billy had found in the labs.

And all of it because of Umbrella, the shadowy corporation behind it all. Umbrella had founded the research, had murdered Doctor Marcus to protect their secrets, and prompted the mad scientist to return and start killing everyone who crossed his path. _Now that I think about it, Umbrella's probably behind the Arklay Cannibals too_ Rebecca realized. _Some of the zombies must have wandered onto the outskirts of town._ And she had an even more disturbing thought. _No one ever saw the killers. That means they could still be out there, waiting. People would see them and think they were just harmless bums, no threat until they started biting. _And just like that, the T-virus would reach Raccoon City.

_No_ Rebecca silently vowed. _Not while I'm alive. I'll make it my life's work if I have to, but no one will ever have to go through what Edward and so many others did. No one else will know what it feels like to wake up dead and hungry._

She didn't have farther to get to the mansion Enrico had pointed out earlier. Rebecca was glad. The sooner she got back to the other STARS, the sooner she could get rescued and the sooner she'd be back in Raccoon City. Then she'd get to work.

(MAT)

Mat Dawson woke up with a headache. Maybe not a headache precisely, but definite head pain. That could have been because he'd just been blown out of a building, had been hit over the head with a lead pipe, or just because that's what happened when you hung upside down in a tree for about an hour.

The first thing Mat saw when he opened his eyes was the barrel of the P90, a few feet from his face.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, flinching back. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was being held at gunpoint by a tree, and laughed out loud. He stopped that quickly, though; laughing hurt.

"Well" he said, dropping his arms down limply. "This is interesting."

He was stuck in the tree in such a way that he couldn't twist around to see how far down the ground was. He decided to stop trying after the tree groaned ominously. Keep squirming around, and it might drop him rather unceremoniously on his ass.

Mat decided to concentrate on freeing the P90. It was hanging by its strap from a branch that was out of his reach. He could reach out and just barely touch the barrel of the submachine gun, but nothing more. Trying just made the weapon swing tantalizingly out of reach.

"C'mon, c'mon" he muttered, reaching out for his gun. He half propped himself up, stopping the rush of blood into his body. His legs had gone all tingly, and he didn't need an MD to know that wasn't good.

"Really?" he complained as the weapon rocked back again. "You are _not_ making this easy, you know that?"

The tree was groaning in protest at his movements, but he was so _close_. _Just a little closer…_

"Oh-" Mat began as the tree branches he had been hanging from suddenly snapped and dropped him what turned out to be about seven feet. Mat hit the ground and, more importantly the rocks therein, and for the second in a little less than an hour was out cold. This bout of unconsciousness didn't last as long, though.

Almost mockingly the P90 slipped off its branch and dropped, butt first, onto Mat's gut. He groaned in long suffering misery, then slowly picked himself up off the ground. He slung the P90 over his shoulder (_damn, why does everything hurt? _he wondered), then decided to have a look around.

There was a huge smoking crater where the Hive had once been. Chad had been right; the self destruct system inside the lab had made sure Umbrella wouldn't get any more use out of it.

Unfortunately, it had also destroyed any evidence of Company wrong doing. Mat, along with Rain Ocampo and JD Salinas had planned to bring down the pharmaceutical enterprise by exposing its weapons research and viral experimentation, but it looked like all of that had gone down the drain.

_Back to square one_ Mat thought dismally.

The Arklay Forest was still. Mat thought about the Umbrella mercenaries he had met inside the Hive: Rain, JD, Olga Danilova, and Chad Kaplan. They had given their lives for each other, and now Mat was the only member of their little circle still on his feet. That meant he owed something to their memories. He remembered Rain's last words to him. _Just keep fighting Umbrella. _

Mat set his jaw. He wouldn't let them have died in vain. He _would_ keep fighting. He knew he didn't have enough information to bring Umbrella down on his own, but if he could get back to Rebecca…

"Then I might have a chance."

Mat's voice broke the silence of the forest. It was almost like the Arklay was holding its breath, waiting for what was going to happen next. _Me too_ Mat thought. _Me too._

The quiet let Mat pick up a sound he instantly recognized as out of place; the drone of helicopters. His face brightened. _The RPD! They must have found Kevin! They're coming to rescue us!_

But as Mat got a closer look at the approaching aircraft, he realized that these were no police helicopters. They were large, twin rotor military vehicles, the kind designed for transporting large numbers of soldiers quickly. And if they were on their way to the Hive, then it was pretty easy to guess who they belonged to.

Mat decided that, seeing as how he had assisted in the destruction of the labs, it would probably be a good idea to make himself scarce. While the choppers were still only a dark spot on the horizon, slowly advancing, Mat slipped into the forest.


	2. Assessing the Damage

Chapter 2

Assessing the Damage

(HUNK)

"Get ready to go" said the chopper pilot.

The mercenary threw hand signals to the rest of his team. They were in the field, and he didn't like talking. Talking was for between missions.

The mercenary was something of an enigma to the rest of his team. For one thing, he always wore full biohazard gear while in action, and insisted everyone else did so as well. He never said why though, anymore than he explained why the old VP70 handgun he always carried was called Matilda or where his codename had come from. The members of this particular team (GOBLIN) just assumed that these were things his old team had known, but since none of them were in a position to answer questions, they just let things lie. "Mr. Death" was a professional; cold and ruthless. But he always got the job.

If GOBLIN team had been able to see what was going on behind the red tinted lenses of HUNK's gas mask, they would have known that he was in his element. This was where he longed to be, the only place he ever felt at home.

The twin rotor beats of the H-21 Shawnee "Work Horse" were soothing to him. He liked the big helicopter; he thought it looked like a flying hotdog and he'd never crashed in one.

When the Work Horse's troop bay opened, HUNK was the first one on the ground, Matilda up and ready. He had the 9mm set to its three-round burst setting; that was the best and most accurate way to handle automatic fire.

HUNK swept his left hand over his head, motioning the members of GOBLIN to take up positions around the crater. The motions were just habit; if GOBLIN was worth the paper they were printed on, then they'd already know what to do. If not, then this would be the last time he worked with them. HUNK had no patience for incompetence. Incompetence endangered the mission, and that was unacceptable.

His orders weren't very forthright: proceed to the site of an industrial accident, secure said site, then wait for a Corporate VIP to arrive at the scene. HUNK hated vague orders. They wasted lives for no reason. But he never complained. It wasn't a soldier's place to do so, and HUNK was a good soldier.

The wreckage was some sort of shaft, several dozen feet across and quite deep. HUNK thought he saw the remains of a pair of heavy doors. These had been blown outward, and from that he determined that this lab, whatever it had been, had been destroyed from the inside. _Either traitors or infiltrators; not my problem in any case_. HUNK snorted distastefully. Internal security was the USS's job, and it looked as though they'd fallen down on it. _And we get to pick up the pieces._

GOBLIN spread out around the rubble, forming a perimeter. HUNK had been very specific in their equipment: MP5 submachine guns and Sig Sauer 9mm handguns, the UBCS's standard issue weapons. They didn't pack a lot of punch, but were perfect close range weapons. From HUNK's orders, danger would come from within the rubble, not without.

All the same, he squinted into the forest. It looked as though someone was moving away from the wreckage. HUNK brought Matilda up, bringing the weapon's stock into the niche on his right arm. He looked down the weapon's iron sights, taking careful aim…

There was a crash and a cry of pain from behind him, and HUNK spun around to see one of the mercenaries impaled on a tentacle, which was flailing him about wildly in the air. The man was screaming and quite obviously mortally wounded, so HUNK fired a burst into his head to shut him up. The noise was annoying, and it might have distracted his teammates.

"What the hell was that?" demanded the unit's leader, a women whose code name was GOBLIN 6.

HUNK wasn't interested in responding, but was spared that when more tentacles erupted from the rubble. One struck another mercenary (HUNK thought it was GOBLIN 2, but wasn't sure). The tentacle went right through him, slicing the man neatly in half. He let out a gurgled scream, then was still.

"Get back, away from the rubble!" HUNK shouted, backpedaling away from the wreckage. He motioned to the Work Horse, at the same time grabbing his radio and calling the pilot. "Go go go go! Get out of here now!"

The pilot wasn't interested in disagreeing. The big helicopter's twin rotors began to spin and it slowly lifted off from the ground.

"No!" shouted GOBLIN 5, running toward the chopper. "Don't you leave us here!"

HUNK thought about shooting her for insubordination (he had _told_ them to back away from the rubble and 5 had just sprinted across it), when the tentacles solved the problem for him. One snaked out, wrapped itself around her waist, and squeezed hard enough to break her spine. GOBLIN 5 was still conscious, though; she remained that way right up until the tentacle slammed her into one side of the Work Horse, through the chopper, and had almost pushed her out the other way when it exploded.

HUNK idly wondered if that broke his confidence in the Work Horses as a whole, but decided not. After all, it been the fault of neither pilot nor aircraft that the chopper was down.

"What do we do?" GOBLIN 6 asked frantically. She and her squad were firing into the mass or rubble, but didn't seem to be making much headway.

"Back up, then give me cover fire" said HUNK. GOBLIN 6 looked at him like he was crazy, but nodded.

"Cover fire!" she shouted, then followed her own orders and started firing the MP5 at the nearest tentacle. The pinkish green limb stuttered under the 9mm impacts, but didn't show any signs of damage.

HUNK didn't really care, so long as the other mercenaries kept the thing occupied. He ran forward, a light blue canister clutched tightly in his hand. When he was only a few feet away, he pulled the pin on the grenade-like weapon, then hurled it at the rubble. There was a flash and a rush of cold air, but nothing else.

Most men would have been rather foul by that point, but HUNK was utterly silent as he prepared a fragmentation grenade and tossed it into the rubble.

The grenade did little to curb the tentacles, although it _did_ make them all come after him. But it also blew away some of the rubble, and that was what HUNK had been aiming for.

With the tentacles only a few feet away, HUNK tossed another of the blue grenades into the squirming mass he had unearthed. There was another blast of cold air, but this time he was successful. The creature who had been buried in the wreckage was now frozen solid.

HUNK motioned for GOBLIN to move up. "It's all right" he said. "This thing can't do anything to us now."

One of the mercenaries, GOBLIN 8, chambered a round in his MP5. "I'll take care of this bastard."

"Stand down, soldier" said HUNK coldly.

"This thing killed Sean, Dylan, and Natasha. No way am I not wasting it."

"This thing is no threat to you anymore" HUNK said calmly. "Now, lower your weapon."

"Hell with you, buddy" said GOBLIN 8. He raised the MP5, ready to fire, then suddenly was down one eye, it having been blown out of his head. GOBLIN 8 pitched forward, his one remaining eye staring blankly ahead of him.

HUNK spun around, the rest of GOBLIN only a nanosecond slower; something unnoticeable to most people but something which stuck out to him. All of them had their weapons up, aimed at the black clad soldiers advancing down the hill behind the mercenaries.

Each soldier carried a FAMAS battle rifle, with what looked like an M1911 strapped to their hips. They wore solid black body armor, with a mirrored black helmet, like something a biker would wear.

_Wonderful_ thought HUNK. _Security thugs._

The Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasures Service and the Company's Security branch were major rivals. UBCS forces thought (rightfully, in HUNK's opinion) the USS forces were nothing more than rent-a-cops with fancy (not to mention impractical) gear, while the USS saw the mercenaries as…mercenaries.

"Who the hell are you people?" demanded GOBLIN 6.

"It's alright, Lieutenant" said HUNK. "They're with the Company."

"The hell it is!" shouted back GOBLIN 6. "These bastards just murdered one of my men!"

"Your soldier was killed because he was about to damage a valuable Company asset" said a British man in civilian clothes, who brushed past the mercenaries as if they hadn't even been there.

"And just who the fuck are you supposed to be?" demanded GOBLIN 6, turning around.

"Easy, Lieutenant" cautioned HUNK. "This is the man for whom we were supposed to secure this area for."

The British man turned and nodded. "Right you are, Sergeant. HUNK, isn't it? Odd codename, but no matter. I am the one who ordered this mission."

"Lovely" said GOBLIN 6 irritably. "Now just who _are _you?"

"I am Doctor Samuel Isaacs" said the Briton. "And I'm here to salvage what I can from this mess."


	3. Silence

Chapter 3

Silence

(ENRICO)

Most of the doors in the mansion were locked. That was a bit more of a problem than it would have seemed. True, had he wanted to, Enrico could have kicked down every door that barred him access. But kicking down doors is a lot more physically demanding than it seems in the movies, and Enrico wasn't willing to risk hurting himself. If he damaged either of his legs, then he wouldn't be able to run. And running was one of the main advantages he had over the infected. He hadn't seen any zombies in the mansion, and was hoping that there weren't any, but his time in Vietnam had taught him that the enemy you didn't see was the most dangerous. He wanted to be prepared.

He had thought about using his other advantage to bust open the door, but decided the AUG was too valuable to risk bending or breaking smacking a door with the assault rifle. He didn't even consider shooting. Aside from the fact that he didn't want to startle the other two STARS with sudden gunfire, he didn't have endless supplies of ammo (a little less than two magazines for the AUG and thirty 9mm rounds for the Samurai Edge). He had less than one magazine left for the Colt, having shot the green monster back in the tunnels before it could kill Rebecca.

Enrico worried about her. The last time he'd seen her had been hours ago, and in a monster infested underground at that.

"Should have ordered her" he muttered to himself. "Should have made her come with me." But he couldn't change the past: Rebecca had stayed behind to look for Billy Coen. What she wanted with that criminal, Enrico had no idea. But he couldn't do anything about that, either. Either Rebecca would find her way to them…or she wouldn't. Worrying about it didn't make matters any better.

Enrico found a door slightly ajar, took it, then took a hallway left, passing black and white photographs of people who looked old enough to be his grandparents. He had no idea who any of them were, anymore than he recognized the portraits that hung along side them: dour faced men and women in turn-of-the-century clothing. There was nothing of interest here.

Then, all of a sudden, there was.

Enrico was idly scanning the faces in the photographs along a large staircase. It was the sort of thing you saw on _This Old House_ (Enrico and his wife were devotees of the show), and it made him feel like he was in a museum, like he was in the home of some famous dead person.

His head jerked up when he thought he saw a face he recognized in one picture. It was an old picture, but not nearly as old as many of the others. Perhaps that was what had drawn his eye. But for whatever reason Enrico had stepped closer to the picture, taking it off the wall and examining it more closely.

It was a group of four people, three men and a woman, in the same monochromatic scheme as the others. One man was old and distinguished looking, while the other two looked to be in their early to mid twenties. The woman was apparently blonde, with shoulder length hair. She might have been attractive; had Enrico not been married and had she not had the same haughty look as the other two.

But Enrico didn't give her more than a passing glance. He was more concerned with one of the young men, the taller one with broad shoulders and close cut blond hair. The one wearing sunglasses.

"No" said Enrico softly. "No, no, _no_." He pulled the picture out of its frame, spinning it around to see the back and the names printed there to be sure. But that only confirmed his fears. _Doctor James Marcus. William Birkin. Annette Wilson._

And Albert Wesker.

(REBECCA)

After walking for a couple of hours, Rebecca saw the mansion Enrico had mentioned on the radio. It came into view as she was cresting a hill, and looked like the answer to a prayer. The flare Kenneth had set up in the early morning hours had burned out, but nobody besides him knew about. Rebecca saw the mansion in full daylight, and it didn't look very sinister; just abandoned. And abandoned was fine with her. If it were abandoned, then there wasn't much likely of running into another house of horrors.

It took Rebecca another forty-five minutes to reach the bottom of the hill. There was a mass of tangled undergrowth, which made travel difficult, and Rebecca wasn't rushing things. She was tired and clumsy and it seemed to her that it would be stupid to survive the previous night only to fall and break her neck.

Emerging from the foliage, Rebecca saw that she was on one side of the larger building (she'd seen that there were smaller structures within the main perimeter). She'd need to climb the large wrought iron fence before she'd have access to the main building, which she thought of simply as _the Mansion_.

For whatever, reason Rebecca decided not to go in through the main door. At the time, it seemed like a good idea to head in a direction no one would expect her from. Despite the Mansion's none-threatening façade, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something waiting for her inside. Something inexplicably…evil, something so rotten as to make what she'd seen inside Umbrella's underground laboratory seem pale by comparison.

She could hear a dull thumping from the Mansion, and headed toward it. There were several windows which were roughly below eye level (Rebecca guessed they were about five feet off the ground), and they were dark enough that she had to get close to see inside them.

The thumping was coming from inside, and for a moment Rebecca managed to delude herself into thinking that it was one of her teammates, or even just a friendly stranger, trying to signal her. She had to all but press her nose up against the filthy window pane to see the truth. When she did, her face became a mask of disgusted and appalled horror.

There was a zombie inside the Mansion, and where there was one there was sure to be more. This one had been pounding its fists and face against the sturdy glass for so long that it was unrecognizable. Rebecca saw that spider web cracks were beginning to form where it always impacted, and knew that soon enough the infected would break out, and then it would come after her.

She had a choice. She could either stick around and wait for it to come to her, or look for somewhere to hide.

She remembered her father's voice. _Always be proactive_. Something he'd said her entire life. Rebecca blinked. Her dad had been an academic, an intellectual, and had schooled her from a young age. He'd been dead set against her joining the STARS, even before he'd heard that Mat had told her about the opening. He'd never much cared for Mat Dawson, and saw the police force as somewhat less evil than the Army: a necessary evil, but nothing to be proud of. They had had a huge fight, the first time Rebecca remembered ever actually _raising her voice_ to either parent, when the time had come for her to pack up and head for Raccoon City.

_Item number ninety-three on my list of things to do when I get out of here_ Rebecca thought. _Patch things up with Dad._

The Mansion was two stories, presumably with an attic in the steepled roof. There might have been zombies on the first floor, but Rebecca doubted there were any above that. Who ever heard of zombies climbing stairs, anyway?

But how to get there? Rebecca was tired. The thing she wanted to do most right now was go find some quiet place and take a long, long nap. But she knew she wouldn't be safe until she could get inside the Mansion. And perversely, that required putting herself in more danger.

There was a tree about a dozen feet away, an old and sturdy looking oak. Its limbs stretched out in all directions, including toward the Mansion. And so Rebecca decided to try something she hadn't done since she was five. She decided to climb a tree.

Climbing a tree was, apparently, like riding a bike: once you'd done it enough, you never forgot it. Maybe that was just because her brain remembered what muscles needed to do what…Rebecca didn't really care. All that concerned her was getting off the ground as soon as possible.

Because, as she began to climb, the window she had peered into earlier suddenly burst open, and out slid the persistent zombie like some sort of enormous slug. It righted itself slowly, painfully, and then began to swing its head about, scanning for her with blind eyes.

Rebecca thought about shooting it, but decided against it. She heard shuffling from inside the broken window, and knew that gunshots would only draw more infected out and after her.

Rebecca saw that there was a fairly sturdy looking branch which led toward a window on the Mansion's second floor, and thanked the God in Whom she had never lost faith. All she had to do was make her way (cautiously) across the branch, then dive through the window…and hope that there were no zombies inside.

She felt like she was walking a tight rope…except that this tight rope was thicker and brittle and secured on only one end. And there weren't flesh eating zombies waiting at the bottom of most circus performances.

Rebecca went out as far on the limb as she was willing (and for _some_ reason that seemed far funnier than it should have), the tree branch swinging like a metalhead jamming out to Metallica. She braced herself for the final effort, and then…she leapt.

She knew to raise her arms over her head, knew that that would shield her from broken glass. She hadn't expected the glass to cut her arms, though, and that seemed like a pretty stupid thing to forget. Rebecca felt herself sitting amid broken glass in a dark and musty bedroom, bleeding from about a dozen small cuts in her arms, and feeling like a total moron.

Then she realized that she was still alive, and that galvanized her into action. She stood up and took stock of her surroundings.

She was in a bedroom (the bed was something of a dead giveaway), apparently a guest room. There was a bureau on one side of the room, and upon checking its drawers she found fifteen 9mm bullets. Rebecca didn't question their presence; she just slipped the loose rounds into her pockets.

There was nothing else of interest in the room. Rebecca headed out into the hallway, saw that the sun was at just the angle to ensure that everything there was dark, and decided that she didn't _really_ want to go exploring. What she wanted was sleep, and there was the bed, so…

Rebecca lay down on it, not even bothering to take off her shoes. She was hot and sweaty and above all exhausted, and under any circumstances but these she would have hated the bed (it had one of those awful feather pillows that were like sleeping on a melted marshmallow). But in the condition she was in, it felt just like Heaven, and Rebecca was asleep in less than a minute.

If only her rest was restful…

(MAT)

Mat could see the crash site ahead of him, and felt a bizarre sense of homecoming. After wandering in the Forest for almost three hours, here was at last something familiar…

Then the wind shifted, and Mat caught the odor he'd hoped to never encounter again. The smell of death and fear…and shit. _Lovely combination_…

Mat headed toward the crashed chopper slowly, clutching the Browning tightly with one hand, eyes scanning for signs of danger.

There was a deep rut from where the STARS had made their entrance (_wonder if they always do it that way_ Mat wondered idly. _Bet it's hell on the RPD's budget…_). The dirt was still fresh and wet, which Mat could see the tracks of everything that had come and gone. He saw the tracks he and the STARS had made (heavy boots for the male STARS and himself, smaller shoes for Rebecca), but there were other signs he didn't recognize. Most belonged to animals: small rodents and what looked like a raccoon's; but there were also human prints, and these led right up to downed helicopter.

_Oh hell._ There was a wet slurping sound coming from inside the chopper's cabin, and despite the fact that Mat knew what he'd find, he still had to look.

"Kevin?" he called out softly. "Kevin, you in there?" He barely knew the other man (he was just a volunteer RPD pilot, so the two had met before), but finding someone else alive might make this whole thing a bit more bearable.

But it wasn't to be. There was a figure stopped over the something in the darkness of the chopper, making obscene noises, and Mat knew that something was wrong. And the fact that this _thing_ was defiling one of his fellow police officers was too much to bear. He hadn't managed to kill the man who'd mortally wounded Edward, but here was this dead _thing_ eating Kevin, and Mat here like some avenging angel.

Mat moved quickly, coldly, and purposefully.

"Get out" he said as he climbed into the chopper. He grabbed hold of the zombie by the tattered uniform it wore, and dragged it into the sunlight. It thrashed and clawed and moaned, but Mat ignored them. The way he had it, there was no way it could hurt him.

He glanced down at it as he dragged it along. It wore tattered and stained fatigues, and it took Mat a moment to realize that he'd seen it before. _Oh yeah, the MPs from the wrecked jeep. Maybe Coen _was_ telling the truth after all…_

Mat knew where he was going before he actually got there. He pictured his destination as he walked, and planned to walk until he found it. The ditch he found fit his mental image perfectly, and Mat half dragged, half tossed the dead MP into it. When the zombie tried to climb back out, Mat shot it down with the Browning. Throughout the entire episode his face was set and grim. He did what needed to be done, and that was that.

He went back to the chopper to check on…what was left Kevin. There wasn't a whole lot. At first Mat had been worried that the dead pilot might be intent on coming back, but those fears proved unfounded. The MP had eaten so much of the man that there wasn't enough _to_ reanimate. That was fine with Mat. He didn't think he had it in him to put down someone he knew.

Having taken care of things at the crash site, Mat headed back into the forest. He never came back to that spot.


	4. From Out of the Fire

Chapter 4

From Out of the Fire…

(ISAACS)

Once he had settled things with the mercenaries, Isaacs ignored them completely. They were trained dogs; barely that and not a thing more.

He examined the bits of the parasite they had exposed, a time intensive job that had taken him nearly three painstaking hours. At the moment, it was still frozen. It had been resourceful on the part of the mercenary to use a nitro grenade. It had slowed the NE and lowered its core temperature enough that the BOW could no longer function. It was, in a sense, hibernating. And that meant it was safe for transport.

The wreckage of the mercenaries' helicopter was still burning, but Isaacs wouldn't have considered it as a candidate for moving the parasite anyway. He needed a controlled environment if he wanted to move the NE without risking damage or escape.

He motioned to one of his own security troops, the one with the enormous radio backpack. The USS personnel were only about half a step above the UBCS mercenaries, but they were what Isaacs had to work with.

"I need to get logging equipment and workers here, plus at least one heavy forklift and excavation equipment" Isaacs said, not looking up. "I'll also require a Harrier jump-jet, or something similar, that can carry a large container at sub-zero temperatures. I'll also need a container meeting these exact dimensions." He thought for a moment, then rattled off the dimensions of the desired rectangular container. "Let me know when they can be here."

"Yes sir" said the security soldier, but Isaacs had already turned and walked away.

He didn't tell the Umbrella rent-a-soldier what the things were for; it was none of the grunt's business. But Isaacs figured it would be obvious to any thinking person what he needed with them.

The logging equipment was to clear out a landing zone for the Harrier. The excavation equipment was for digging open the loading dock of the Hive and recovering the NE. Then the forklift would be used to transport the parasite, inside its container, to the Harrier, which would then convey it to a secure facility.

Isaacs shook his head in disgust. The NE was a formidable creature, and some _idiot_ had been using it as a guard dog. It was sickening.

"Well, we'll come up for a better purpose than that" muttered Isaacs to himself. He hadn't come all the way over from China to take part in cleaning up after that idiot Greene's mess, but he had long sense learned that what he wanted and what _Umbrella_ wanted didn't have to be the same, so long as he knew which one trumped the other.

There was, still, something maliciously poetic about cleaning up after the former head of Hive Research and Development. He and Daniel Greene had been rivals back at the old Umbrella Management Training Center, and Isaacs was more than willing to point out the other man's flaws. That Greene was almost surely _dead_ didn't really bother him.

_We'll have to take the parasite out of the States_ Isaacs thought. _Some place secure, but with the right facilities and where the government won't bother us. _The labs outside of Paris met those qualifications, and Isaacs immediately began planning: what materials he'd need, who he'd want on his staff.

The NE was durable but directionless on its own. Isaacs decided they'd have to pair it with a suitable host, probably a Tyrant series BOW. That would give it more strength and, depending on how much intelligence was given the Tyrant, allow for a certain degree of free will in how the NE would complete its missions.

_We could probably even get away with arming the thing_ Isaacs thought. _Market it as a heavy-duty commando. Designate it as a tank and vehicle buster or some such, use it as a support unit for the lighter BOWs._

Isaacs spent the rest of the day, imagining his NE enhanced Tyrant ravaging its way across the battlefield, spreading terror in its wake. The mercenaries all tended to avoid him. The smile he wore on his face was chilling beyond belief.

(The Forest)

So fixated on the NE parasite, Isaacs didn't notice that another formidable BOW was making its escape from the Hive's rubble.

Oozing out from under pieces of concrete, sliding out from behind ruined cinderblocks, the horde slipped silently away from the Hive. None of the Umbrella personnel noticed, and even if they had, Isaacs would not have bothered trying to collect them. They were a failed experiment, after all. The foolish toys of a deranged old man, nothing more.

But the Arklay Forest reacted differently. The local wildlife (which included a fair number of raccoons) noticed something was off. Some evil was emanating from around the ruined structure. Slowly but surely, a wave of hostility swept across the animals who lived in the area. They became extremely aggressive, attacking anything that had the misfortune to cross their paths. Something had gotten loose in Arklay Forest, and it was spreading.

Animals began to avoid the area. Birds began to abandon their nests, abandoning chicks if they were not mature enough to fly. Foxes and squirrels, along with many other smaller mammals, began to flee their dens. Any who stayed behind joined the steadily growing pack of aggressive creatures.

This motley group of animals included everything from crows to foxes to enormous dogs, which had run away from the City and escaped into the forest. Although it took many hours, the pack soon grew to be over a hundred strong.

By late afternoon on July 24th, the Arklay Forest was an unsafe place to be…


	5. Days and Nightmares

Chapter 5:

Days and Nightmares

(ENRICO)

Enrico headed down the stairs, the picture tucked into his vest. He needed some time to digest what he'd found, and he guessed that the easiest place to do that would be inside the empty entry room. He'd told Forest and Richard to meet back there if they found anything, so there was the off chance that they would have found something. Then again, he could just as easily be there by himself for a little while.

Enrico left the stairs, took a left down a darkened hallway, and tripped over something stretched across the floor. He staggered forward, then fell, his legs stretched across an uneven lump in the floor.

_What in the world? _Enrico wondered. _Bad craftsmanship?_ He stood back up, then turned around to see what had tripped him. He didn't like what he found.

It was a body, almost certainly that of a man, in combat fatigues and heavy boots. There was something distinctly familiar about this person…

"Oh no" Enrico gasped, kneeling down beside the body. "Kenneth? Kenneth, are you alive in there?"

Watching the body, Enrico could see it moving feebly. Kenneth was breathing, albeit shallowly. He was still alive, though he was obviously injured and probably unconscious.

Enrico pulled out the small penlight he kept in his pocket, and shined it on Kenneth's body. The Bravo point man wasn't in good shape.

His skin pigment meant that Kenneth would never, ever flush, but there were other indications that he'd lost a lot of blood. Namely, there was the fact that his uniform was saturated with it, clinging damp and dark to his skin. The source of the blood was also readily apparent: Kenneth's throat had been viciously torn out. The man was literally drowning in his own blood, that which was still in his body.

It looked like he'd been attacked by something, then dragged himself over to the wall he now leaned up against. Enrico looked around for a moment, long enough to determine that there was no immediate danger to him. Whatever had gotten Kenneth was long gone.

Enrico turned his attention back to his injured subordinate, and for what had to be the hundredth time cursed the fact that he'd allowed Rebecca to wander off alone. If there was ever a time when he would need a medic…

Enrico tore the sleeve off his uniform, the part that had his Special Tactics and Rescue Service patch. This he stuffed as delicately as he could around Kenneth's punctured jugular vein. It had been a long time since Vietnam, a long time since Enrico had learned battlefield first aid, and he didn't ever remember learning how to treat throat wounds.

"I'll be back" he told Kenneth, wondering if the other man could even hear him. Talking helped Enrico, though. "I'm gonna go find the others, then we'll be back here. Just hold on. We _will_ be back for you."

Then Enrico hurried quickly back down the hallway. All the way, he wondered if he'd just lied to a dying man. _First time I've lost a man the entire time I've been a cop_ he raged silently to himself. _And now I might lose another. _He shook his head. _Well, I won't lose any more._

He wondered he could keep that promise, either.

(REBECCA)

The time Rebecca spent sleeping in the Mansion were some most restless hours she had ever experienced. She spent at least forty-five minutes rolling around back and forth on the bed, trying to get comfortable. And when she finally did manage to drift off, her ordeal wasn't over.

Her dreams were a series of disjointed images, some of which she recognized and some she did not.

She saw one of the first men she had killed, the _Ecliptic Express_ on the conductor. But he wasn't an undead and reanimated corpse; he was the smiling husband and father he had been on the picture Rebecca had found inside his office. But he wasn't smiling now. Now he stood, flanked by his wife and son, glaring at Rebecca as if she were some sort of murderer. Rebecca wanted to tell them she was sorry, scream that she had had no choice, but the image flashed away.

Now it was Edward, the man who'd been showing her the ropes with STARS.

"Why didn't you save me?" he asked her, his voice soft and sad. "Why did you let me down?" Again he vanished before Rebecca could explain herself.

She saw Enrico, his face a mask of anger. "Where are you?" he demanded. "Where are you, when we need you most?"

Then Enrico was replaced by Billy, lost and alone in the Arklay Forest. He didn't know how to get out, and just kept wandering around for what seemed like hours.

She saw Mat, his entire body a mass of blood and bone. He looked like one of the dead military police from Billy's crash site. He didn't say anything at first; he just stood there staring at her.

"I died for you" he said after a moment, his voice soft and sad. "Was it worth it? Tell me it was worth it." He stared at her for a minute longer, then lunged forward, a ravenous zombie. "Tell me!"

Rebecca raised her arm over her face, wanting to block out the monster that had once been her best friend. She braced for the impact, waited to feel his cold arms around her, his teeth tearing into her body.

But it never came.

When Rebecca raised her head and opened her eyes, she found that Mat was gone, as if he had never even been there. In his place swayed an enormous snake, poised with its head in the air, its eyes at level with hers.

And Rebecca found her gaze drawn to those eyes, gazing fixedly into them. Those eyes came closer and closer, and she felt herself falling into them, into oblivion.

She gave a small whimper in her sleep, then was still. And that was the last of her dreams in the Mansion that she remembered.

(MAT)

Mat felt didn't need to look at his watch to know that noon had come and gone. He felt it and heard it, in the rumbling of his stomach. The last time he had eaten had been at lunch the day before, a ham sandwich he'd made himself and that now felt woefully inadequate.

He silently cursed himself. If he'd been thinking, he would have stuffed a couple of granola bars into his pocket, instead of the damn bean-bag rounds for the shotgun. Like _those _had come in handy.

He needed a place where he could hole up, then wait for the other STARS, or figure out some way to signal Alpha team. With Edward and Kevin both dead, there was no one left who knew how to use the radio inside the crashed helicopter. If they were going to be rescued, it would be because of old school signals like smoke.

Which brought Mat to another thing he had failed to pack: smoke grenades. _Because somebody else will have them_ he thought to himself bitterly. _It's not like I'm gonna get separated from the other STARS, right?_

Mat kept up his trek across the Arklay Forest, his thoughts full of self recrimination.


	6. Sterilization

Chapter 6

Sterilization

(HUNK)

It was July. It was mid-afternoon. The soldiers were all wearing black fatigues. The consequences of this were uncomfortable, and smelled even worse.

HUNK shook his head at the stupidity and sheer green-ness of GOBLIN. They were not one of them used to operating inside their combat gear for long periods of time, and it showed. GOBLIN 9 was openly panting, sweat running down his face like it was a waterfall.

All the same, HUNK was glad he wasn't doing much more than standing around and trying to make up for the un-imposing-ness of his fellow UBCS personnel. With their reflective helmets, it was impossible to tell if the USS goons were even mildly uncomfortable. _Bastards probably have air-conditioning in them_ he thought idly.

But at least he wasn't one of the furiously perspiring, half naked men down below him. The workers and their equipment had gone to work almost as soon as they got off the chopper, and that had been a little over two hours ago. They were in a small valley, flat enough for landing the Harrier and not much else. The region was between two of the Arklay Mountains the forest was named for, but that didn't change the fact that it was musty, mid-afternoon, and late July.

The workers were mostly white, although they were all tanned enough that it didn't really matter. Each was big and well built; HUNK heard one of the GOBLINs mutter to another about not wanting to meet one of them down a dark alley. HUNK wasn't concerned: _he_ had had training for fighting larger opponents. Out of boredom, he plotted different ways to kill every one of the workers, without resorting to Matilda. It was morbid and pointless, but it killed time.

Most of the UBCS were glaring at the USS. HUNK didn't know or particularly care what the security boys were up to. So long as _someone_ was doing what they were supposed to (watch the workers and make sure nothing got them, whatever that something might be), HUNK wasn't inclined to worry about the rivalry.

When people didn't follow orders, that was when things got bad.

When a worker screamed in agony, HUNK was immediately angry. Angry at himself for not doing his job, angry at the mercenaries for not doing the same, and most of all angry at the worker for being misfortunate.

The man was big and blonde and screaming in something that definitely wasn't English. Judging by his looks, it was probably Scandinavian. Then again, most of the sounds he made were just shrieks of agony, and those are fairly universal.

HUNK made his way calmly down the hill, Matilda at his waist, where he could bring it up if need be. He needed to take the whole picture in, not just rush forward like everyone else. Running toward the sounds of screaming wasn't a good idea. That was how more people got hurt, how more people got killed. And how the job _didn't_ get done.

The sight that greeted him was almost comical. The big, muscular man was screaming as loud as humanly possible, flailing his right arm about wildly. That arm was spraying blood everywhere, as his wrist had apparently been opened up.

HUNK's first thought was that the man had been hit by a splinter, and was a little annoyed. _All this for some idiot that doesn't know how to do his own job._ That was inexcusable to HUNK. The job was what you got paid for. Doing it right was the most important thing. Always.

Then HUNK saw the dark, furry mass hanging from the man's arm, wiggling around not in time with his movements. Like it was a dog worrying a piece of meat. And things got very unfunny.

"What the hell is that?" asked GOBLIN 9. He had apparently caught his breath, and HUNK's opinion of him went up. He had forgotten physical discomfort and gotten down to business. He was almost a soldier. Almost.

The worker kept shouting in Scandinavian. More and more of the Company lumberjacks wanted to join in, adding their own two cents (or two pfennigs, or whatever the hell the equivalent was where they came from), and as a result nothing was getting done.

So HUNK decided to take action.

He stepped forward, toward the screaming worker, grabbed the wounded arm and the furry passenger attached there, and rather unsympathetically pulled.

_That_ didn't earn the love and admiration of the worker, who scream louder and swung at HUNK with his free arm. HUNK was a head shorter and about a hundred pounds lighter than the other man, but then he also didn't have a fur ball eating its way through his arm. He was calm and collected.

HUNK used the man's momentum against him, executing a nigh perfect judo throw. He doubted the worker appreciated that fact. He probably didn't appreciate anything at that point, and wouldn't for some time. His head met the stump of a tree he had just felled, and he went limp.

That allowed HUNK to remove the furry little bundle of joy from his arm, and get a good look at it. He didn't like what he saw.

It was like some eco-hippy's perverted dream: a chipmunk with a taste for human flesh. This one was covered in blood up to its furry little ears, and wiggled its nose at him as if it thought it could charm its way out of its deeds. _Aw, ain't I cute?_

HUNK didn't think so. He threw the chipmunk to the ground, raised his foot, and stomped down hard, breaking the nasty little rodent's back. He felt bone crunch as he ground his foot down, and it was only then that he relented.

"What the hell was that?" said one of the USS, his voice shaken. "What the fucking _hell_ was that?" His voice cracked and rose at the end; he was clearly in hysterics.

HUNK didn't have any idea what the fucking hell that was, so he didn't say anything. There was no point in broadcasting ignorance. It wasted time and kept someone else from saying something truly important.

Such as, for example, when GOBLIN 6 exclaimed: "Oh God! It's still moving!"

That didn't surprise HUNK. He must not have severed the thing's spine correctly. It was in its death throes. He was _sure_ he had broken the little bastard's back, but it was possible he'd been wrong. He didn't spend a lot of time abusing helpless (or carnivorous) rodents.

But when he looked down at the chipmunk, he saw that it wasn't just still moving: it was still _attacking_; nibbling at his boot. That annoyed him. When he killed something, he thought it was perfectly reasonable to expect that something to _stay dead_. Since this chipmunk needed a little more convincing, HUNK decided to let it meet his other boot. _Head, meet foot. Foot, head. You two have fun._

Lacking a brain, the chipmunk stopped moving. HUNK looked up at the others, workers and mercenaries alike. All of them were staring at him, eyes wide.

"What's all this?" demanded the Corporate scientist, the one called Isaacs. "Why have you stopped working?"

They all babbled for a moment, incoherently. Isaacs sighed in disappointment, then looked at HUNK. He and GOBLINs 6 and 9 were the only three who hadn't joined the cacophony. Isaacs pointed at HUNK. "You. Cold blooded one. What happened?"

HUNK gestured to the dead chipmunk. "It attacked the worker, so I killed it."

Isaacs nodded. "Crushed its head?"  
"Yes, sir. It wouldn't go down otherwise."

"Yes, I suspected as much." Isaacs pointed at the unconscious worker. "This is the victim?"

HUNK nodded. "Yes sir."

"The only one."

"Yes sir."

"Well, that makes things easy. Well, easier." He turned and began to walk back up the hill. He half looked over his shoulder. "Kill him."

And before anyone could say anything, HUNK did. He fired a three round burst into the unconscious man's chest. The triple 9mms were far worse than any double-tap: they made a hole no one could survive. The man let out a gasp, then went still.

"What are you waiting for?" Isaacs shouted over his shoulder, without turning. "Back to work."


	7. Security

Chapter 7:

Security

(ENRICO)

There was no one in the entry hall when Enrico got there. After ten minutes of waiting, there was still no one. He realized that he should have set a time for them to come and report back. Seeing as how he _hadn't_, though, there wasn't anything for him to do but head back into the mansion. There _had_ to be something he could use for first aid.

Enrico walked to the door, opened it, and peeked outside for a moment. It was getting dark, and that meant it would be harder for Alpha team to land when-and _if_-they got to the forest.

There was a dull humming from behind Enrico, and he spun around, bringing the AUG up as he did so. He relaxed a moment later, realizing what the sound had been. Where once it had been dim, now the entry hall was light with a dark orange glow.

Enrico looked down at his watch. 5:45. _The lights are on a timer. That's different._ Why would there be timed lights in an abandoned house? _Maybe because it's not so abandoned as somebody would have me believe_ he thought.

He stepped back into the building, thought for a few seconds, then turned on his heel and stepped back outside. Most of the doors in there were locked, but there was the chance that he'd find a back door somewhere else, and have that grant him access to more of the estate.

Slinging the assault rifle across his back, Enrico stepped out into the dusky forest.

(REBECCA)

It took her a minute to realize that the voice calling her name wasn't part of her dream. The thing that gave it away was the fact that it didn't sound accusatory, only concerned.

"Rebecca? Rebecca, are you okay?"

She groaned and sat up, her muscles stiff from sleeping on the uncomfortable mattress. She tried to gage how long she'd been out; the only indication of passed time she had was in the cuts on her arms, which had stopped bleeding.

It was somehow lighter, and Rebecca was confused for a minute. Then she realized that there were lights on along the walls, bathing everything in a lazy orange glow.

Everything, including the tall young man staring at her from the hallway.

"Good" he said, stepping forward. "You're awake. I was worried for a minute."

"Richard!" Rebecca exclaimed, jumping out of the bed. She was happy to see another person alive, and doubly happy to see her teammate. She had thought the other STARS were gone for good. "Thank goodness you're okay! Where are the others?"

Richard gestured vaguely behind himself with his left hand, his other holding onto his modified shotgun. "Enrico, Forest, and me got here this morning. We've been wandering around all day, exploring the place. I haven't seen them since then, though." He paused. "Rebecca, there are these…things, lurking out in the-"

"I know" Rebecca interrupted. "I've seen them myself."

Richard nodded. "Oh. Right, Captain said you'd had your own run in with the dead and hungry. Well, it looks like you came out okay." He paused again, looking at her arm, a worried look on his face. "What happened there?"

"Don't worry, I wasn't bitten or anything;" Rebecca said, quickly adding, "I got cut up jumping through the window is all. They aren't deep or dangerous."

"Glad to hear it" said Richard. "C'mon, we better head downstairs. Captain said to go down there if we found anything interesting, and," he grinned, "I think you might qualify."

"Glad you feel that way" Rebecca said, acting offended. "My life is now complete."

Richard snorted, then gestured down the hallway. "After you."

"Oh, a gentlemen! I'm impressed."

Richard just smiled self depreciatively and shrugged. "That's just how I am."

Rebecca didn't know much about her teammate. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but there were times when he got a sad look in his eye, as if some part of him was irrevocably gone forever. Rebecca was curious, but felt rude asking. That was just how _she_ was.

"This way" said Richard, pointing down a hallway. Rebecca hoped he knew where he was going; everything looked the same to her.

They headed down a corridor Rebecca could have _sworn_ they'd already gone through from the other direction. Richard motioned for her step back, then leaned against the wall. He leaned across the door beside him, readied his shotgun, then hit it with the weapon's butt stock. The door splintered and came open, Richard darting quickly inside. Rebecca followed, her Samurai Edge up and ready.

It was an empty room. Richard turned to look at her, grinning sheepishly. "I guess it wasn't this way."

Rebecca shrugged. "No problem. Let's go."

She turned to leave; only to find her path blocked by a very obviously dead man in a security guard's uniform. Stitched to the guard's breast pocket was the name SCOTT.

"Sorry, Scott" said Rebecca. She raised the Samurai Edge, lined up the shot, and put a bullet through Scott's right eye.

Richard had watched the entire episode in shock, unable to even shout a warning. The sound of the gunshot seemed to wake him up. He stared down at the body, then up at Rebecca, then back at the body. "Mother_fuck_" he said after a minute, then looked back at Rebecca, his face red with embarrassment. "Sorry. I uh-"

Rebecca smiled. "It's okay. I've heard the word before." She pointed back down the hallway. "What do you say we leave, before more of his buddies show up?"

Richard nodded lamely, then followed her back into the hallway.

The next door they tried also proved to be wrong. It was a green house, or at least it _had_ been a greenhouse. Now it looked like the lunatics were running the asylum.

Gardening tools and bags of fertilizer were scattered all over the stone floor. Ivy stretched across the Mansion's wall, and some of it seemed to be…moving. That made Rebecca uncomfortable, so she turned away. And without giving it any thought, she drew the Samurai Edge.

"This isn't it, either" said Richard, nervously rolling the shotgun back and forth in his hands. "We should-"

Something large and heavy slammed into the far side of the wall, the one with thick glass panels to better filter in sunlight. A moment later, Rebecca realized that _something_ was trying to force itself through the small, hastily closed doggy panel on the greenhouse's exit door.

But that was a moment later. When she heard the sound, Rebecca jumped…and broke the first rule of firearm safety. Her finger reflexively tensed on the trigger, and the Samurai Edge fired.

Fortunately, she hadn't had it aimed anywhere _near_ Richard-she wasn't _that _inexperienced. Unfortunately, the bullet flew through the glass of the greenhouse's windows. There was the clatter of broken window pane, which was rapidly eclipsed by another, far more shrill sound.

From out of nowhere, five large, dark crows swept into the room. They flew around the ceiling in mad circles, crying out loudly to one another.

Rebecca stepped back, her eyes riveted to the agitated birds. Her foot came down wrong on a rake, which decided to come up and smack her across the back. She cried out in pain and fell backwards. And the crows were on top of her.

The next few seconds were a blur to Rebecca; a timeless, shapeless mass of fluttering wings and black feathers. She dropped the Samurai Edge, raising her hands to protect her face.

Then she heard a gunshot, and the crows fled. Turning around, she was Richard. He had his shotgun by the barrel in his left hand, while in his right he had his own handgun. He shoved that back into its holster, then offered his hand to Rebecca. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, looking up at the crows. They had gone back to fluttering around the ceiling, trying to get out. All except for one; _it_ was battering wildly at its fellow birds.

Rebecca knew the signs of T-virus infection when she saw them. "We should go."

There was a crash, and a pair of big, mean looking dogs burst into the greenhouse. They both turned toward the two STARS, growling low in their throats.

"Go, now!" shouted Rebecca.

Richard didn't need any urging. Together, they bolted out of the greenhouse, the dogs only a few feet behind them.

Richard spun around, holding the door in place with his shoulder as the dogs tried to break it down from the other side. "Get the bolt!" he shouted, indicating a long wooden plank with a twist of his head.

Rebecca grabbed the bolt, then shoved it into place. It made a loud THUNK, and the dogs began to scratch frantically at the now fully locked door.

They headed back into the hallway without further incident. Richard pointed down a different hallway. "Now, this time I'm _sure_ this is the right way."

Rebecca nodded. "Okay. But, you go first."

They came out into a large, well lit room. Rebecca blinked in the changed light; she was used to the relatively dim hallways, and this room was dazzling. Because of that, it took her a moment to realize something that Richard grasped instantly.

"Great, where'd they go?"

The hallway was empty. For all Rebecca knew, she and Richard were all alone in the Mansion. And right now, that was the scariest thought she'd ever had.

(MAT)

It was starting to get dark by the time Mat reached the glowing lights he'd seen in the distance. His watch had gotten busted when he'd been blown out of the Hive (he wondered if he could count a replacement as a work related expense), but judging by the healthy stubble on his face, he guessed it was about five o'clock in the evening. Maybe a little later, with the sun where it was.

Although he didn't know it, Mat reached the Mansion from an angle only slightly different from Rebecca's: he came out of the Arklay Forest directly behind the huge building.

Mat made his way cautiously toward the tall, wrought iron fence that circled the Estate's grounds. He tested its strength for a moment, determined that it would take his weight, then vaulted over it.

He heard dry leaves crunch underneath his boots when he landed on the other side. That seemed odd to him, since it was late July and not late October. It seemed like everything in the Arklay Forest was dying, even the trees. _So long as they don't come back to life, I don't really care_.

He heard a distant howling, a sound that made gooseflesh race across his arms. He remembered all too well the luckless hunter he'd seen get mauled by his own dogs nearly twenty-four hours ago. If there were more infected dogs in the forest, Mat didn't want anything to do with them.

There were several building behind what Mat assumed was the main estate. He angled toward the closest one, which looked like some sort of tool shed/mechanic's quarters. He just hoped it wasn't already occupied. He was getting tired of zombies.

He thought he heard something (or several somethings) moving around in the dead leaves with him. He didn't stay to investigate, though. It was dark and Mat decided he'd rather _not_ know what went bump in the night.

He made it to the building without running into the noisemakers. Mat climbed the porch, then opened the door and stepped inside, letting it swing closed behind him. He winced when he heard how the sound carried in the stillness. He just hoped it didn't attract unwanted attention.

There wasn't much to see. This was indeed somebody's house, but whoever that person was wasn't very cleanly. Everything was in disarray, and the whole place smelled like sweat.

Mat was in the back (_God, the smell makes my eyes water_) when he heard the sound of something walking around on the porch. Something heavy. Cautiously, he unslung the P90 and made his way back toward the door.

There was definitely something big outside. Mat thought he could hear chains rustling. _God, it's Jacob Marley's ghost_ he thought; like most people, he'd read Charles Dickens' _A Christmas Carol_ when he was younger, and the sound the ghost made when it haunted poor Scrooge had scared the crap out of him.

But this was something more substantial than Marley's spirit. Mat intended to give it a taste of 5.7mm rounds if it so much as blinked at him wrong.

_Best to move fast_ he thought grimly. Then he kicked open the door and sprung out. He heard the door strike the side of the house, then the rustle of chains to his left. He was swinging in that directing when something big, meaty, and _heavy_ slammed down on the back of his head. He was out before he hit the ground.

(FOREST)

The feeling was getting worse. Forest was _sure_ something was watching him, but he never managed to catch that something in the act. Whatever it was, the bastard was sneaky.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp, painful twinge in the cut on his hand. The pain became far greater, and Forest let out a cry and sank to his knees, his whole body trembling.

"Agh God!" he cried, dropping the Milkor and clutching his arm with both hands. The pain was too much to bear.

Then, more out of the corner of his eye than anything else, Forest saw something wet and slimy coming toward him. Then more and more somethings slimy. Soon he was surrounded.

Forest was already screaming. All the same, his screams changed pitch when the things began to climb up his body…and feed.


	8. Expendable

Chapter 8

Expendable

(HUNK)

The excavation equipment arrived at about 1530, meaning that HUNK and the rest of GOBLIN had the next few hours to watch the large dozers as they rooted through what was left of the Company's lab. As more pieces of the tentacled creature were unearthed, they were loaded into special metal boxes, the size of a sport utility vehicle. HUNK guessed (correctly, though he was never certain) that these were climate controlled containers, which would allow the Company to transport the tentacles safely.

He was reminded of a movie Matilda had taken him to see, when he was young. It was an old, black and white film, shown as a re-release as part of some film festival. A large, jello-like monstrosity had terrorized a small town, eating anyone misfortunate enough to cross its path. The thing was ultimately frozen alive, then sent to Antarctica. HUNK had been terrified of the movie, and was even more afraid of the monster.

He had since gotten over such feelings. Fear was a weakness, and in his line of work, HUNK couldn't afford those.

All the same, as he watched the Harrier take off into the distance, his mind kept going back to that awful old movie, and the last line. In big, corny letters, the message THE END? had appeared on the otherwise black screen.

It came very close to being the end of him. The only warning he got was the sound of someone cocking an assault rifle. The noise made him half turn, so he saw one of the USS soldiers aiming his FAMAS at HUNK's midsection.

That was a decidedly unfriendly action, and HUNK had a decidedly unfriendly response already planned. Without hesitating, without even _thinking_, he brought Matilda up and put three rounds through the soldier's head.

Just like that, the small valley descended into a firefight.

The USS forces opened fire on everything that moved and wasn't wearing their distinctive black uniforms. The first to go were the workers, mowed down in less than a minute. Then they turned their weapons on their former comrades.

HUNK dove forward, launching himself onto his belly as he began to crawl along. Bullets tore up the dirt around him, sending up little clouds of soil like miniature shell bursts which rained down on his black fatigues.

He came to a stop in front of one of the trees the late workmen had felled. The log was about as thick as he was, and fairly large, which meant it would keep the USS soldiers from hitting him. Whether or not it would conceal him when he started shooting, HUNK wasn't sure. In any case, there was only one way to find out.

HUNK used Matilda's iron sights to sight in on one of the USS, then pulled the trigger. He didn't wait to see the man's head jerk from the impacts, let alone to see if he went down. As soon as the third round left the chamber, HUNK was back behind the tree.

He heard bullets smack into the tree before he was even completely back behind cover. Small pieces of bark flew into the air over his head; a few even drove, stinging, into his arm. HUNK ignored the pain, though. It was a minor wound and a distraction. Nothing to worry about.

All the same, he knew he couldn't fire from the same place twice. Doing that would be inviting someone to cancel his ticket for him.

Instead, he unclipped a flash-bang grenade from his vest, pulled the pin, then tossed it behind his back. He heard a startled shout from over the other side, then the grenade detonated. Even though he wasn't facing the grenade, he saw a bright flash from somewhere behind him. That was his cue. With his thumb, he clicked Matilda back to semi-automatic, then sprinted out of cover.

He saw a lone USS rifleman, standing with his hands over his visor, apparently dazzled by the blast. HUNK didn't give him a chance to recover himself; he just gave the other man a double tap to the forehead. He angled toward the body, releasing Matilda as he did so. The VP70 dropped down to his waist, suspended by its strap. Then HUNK grabbed the dead USS soldier's FAMAS, checked to be sure that it was unsafetied, and ran for the next most likely source of cover.

Or rather, that was his original plan. It went out the window as soon as he realized that there were other members of his team still alive.

Ordinarily, HUNK would have left GOBLIN to fend for themselves. The mission trumped everything, even personal well being. But here, there _was_ no mission. It was kill or be killed, and GOBLIN, though not as competent as he was, could still watch his back.

His shooting of the fratricidal USS had bought the other UBCS personnel time. Some of them had had the presence of mind to run for cover. They were, at the moment, in the middle of a shootout with the USS.

HUNK shot the two closest riflemen in the back with his stolen FAMAS, then vaulted over the fallen log the mercenaries had taken cover behind.

"Situation" he said to the mercenary he landed next to, GOBLIN 6.

She shook her head. "They just…started shooting. It was like an ambush."

"We've been deemed liabilities" HUNK replied calmly.

"What?" demanded GOBLIN 9, in the process of changing magazines in his MP5. "What do you mean, hazardous?"

HUNK raised Matilda and shot a USS soldier who had been creeping up on GOBLIN 9, dropping the body down on the startled young mercenary. He answered the question, although he doubted the other man would get much out of it. "We must've seen something we weren't supposed to. So, they're trying to shut us up."

GOBLIN 6 stared at him in surprise. "How do you know?"

"Because I've been in their situation before." HUNK paused. "Except, if that was me out there shooting, you'd all already be dead."  
GOBLIN 6 gulped nervously, then nodded. "Okay. Fine. So, they're trying to kill us. What do we do about it?"

HUNK checked the magazine in the FAMAS. It was about half empty. _Lovely_ he thought to himself. "Not die."

Then, he popped back out of cover and opened fire with Matilda. There were soldiers close enough that he trusted the weapon's shorter range. He'd use the FAMAS for those who were not so close.

He shot an opportunistic USS who apparently had more guts than sense, which caused the rest of the soldiers to head for cover. He shot at the closer of the three remaining soldiers, which rewarded him with a scream. He knew better than to believe he'd actually hit someone, though. Some gunfighters were particularly nasty, and liked to pretend to be hurt.

HUNK pulled his last remaining grenade off his vest and hurled it toward the next closest USS. That accomplished, he lowered Matilda and picked up the FAMAS.

Just as he'd expected, the grenade served to flush the man out of cover. He tried to sprint back to where the other able bodied USS crouched, but HUNK dropped him before the man had taken three steps.

That left one soldier still in the fight…Probably. GOBLIN 9 cupped a hand over his mouth and shouted into the twilight.

"You can still get out of this" he shouted. "No one else has to die." HUNK had to respect the man's attempt. He knew _he_ just wanted to kill the last soldier.

There was silence for a moment, then the USS shouted back.

"_Yob'tvoyu mat'_!"

GOBLIN 9 shot HUNK a curious glance. "What does _that_ mean?"

"Russian. 'Fuck your mother.'"

"Well, that was nice."

HUNK ignored that. "Okay" he said, gesturing to the other two mercenaries. "Six, I want you to go left and draw his fire. Nine, stay here and keep him pinned down. If he shows himself, give him two in the chest and one in the head. I'll go down the middle. If either of you get the shot, ta-"

He cut off when a loud scream came suddenly from the darkness. It was coming from the direction not of the man who had shouted Russian at them, but the man who HUNK had thrown the grenade at. _So maybe he _was _hurt_ he thought. _But, why is he screaming now?_

"Arkady?" the unhurt USS shouted, but the screaming didn't stop. Then, all of a sudden, it did.

There was another pause, then the same Russian called out to the three UBCS. "Check my _tovarishchi._ No shoot."

HUNK traded glances with the two other UBCS. GOBLIN 6 shrugged. "If all else fails, he'll be closer."

HUNK nodded, then shouted back to the USS. "Fine. But we'll be watching. Try anything funny, and that'll be the end of you."

But the USS seemed to honor his word. He stepped out from cover, his FAMAS hanging from its strap by his waist, his hands well away from it. He seemed more concerned with his comrade (_tovarishchi_, he remembered, was Russian for that) than he was for his own safety. That sort of selflessness surprised HUNK. He wouldn't have gone out of _his_ way for GOBLIN. The fact that the USS did things differently surprised him.

GOBLINs 6 and 9 covered the USS while HUNK slipped around, trying to get to a place where he could see the USS unobstructed.

"Arkady?" the USS called out again. There was no answer, just an odd gurgle coming from the other soldier's last known position. HUNK felt a chill run down his back, and told himself it was just the night air.

Then the USS gasped and brought up his FAMAS. HUNK almost dropped him, hesitating only when he saw that the man wasn't aiming it at him or the GOBLINs. It was aimed at the base of the tree the other USS, Arkady, had taken cover behind. _The tree where I knocked that worker out and then shot him_ HUNK realized.

At first HUNK thought the USS had seen the worker's body and panicked, but he remembered that the man had been there when he'd shot the unfortunate. That meant something else was up…

"_Bozemoi_!" the USS shouted. _My God!_ Then he opened fire with his battle rifle; two three-round bursts into something HUNK couldn't see.

Then, he could. A shape rose up out of the shadows by the tree, and HUNK was confused. This was the worker he'd shot earlier. Only, he didn't seem to have gotten the memo. The one about him being dead.

The USS shot him again, another triple-crack to the chest. The man staggered back a few steps, then lurched back forward, stumbling along. HUNK felt his breathing increase, rasping loud inside his helmet. _This _is not_ possible_ he thought.

Except, it was.

With another lurch, the dead worker was on the USS. He ripped a large chunk out of the man's left arm with his teeth, then swallowed it whole. He lunged again, biting down on the USS's neck. The soldier screamed and screamed as the worker wiggled his head back and forth, tearing the wound open.

The USS dropped his FAMAS, then drew his handgun (_Makarov_ HUNK thought, mentally identifying the weapon). He shot the worker repeatedly in the chest, emptying an entire magazine and still pulling the trigger. The clicking of the empty chamber was lost in the growls of the worker and cries of his victim.

HUNK darted forward, bringing up his own FAMAS as he did so. He flipped the weapon over, and brought it down on the back of the worker's head. There was a loud snap as his neck broke, then he was limp against the USS's body.

HUNK jerked the body off the soldier, then knelt down beside him. "Hurry!" he shouted over his shoulder to the two GOBLINs. There was no danger, and so HUNK could afford to be compassionate. Besides, they might be able to figure out why the man had been trying to kill them.

"You won't save him" said a voice.

HUNK's head jerked up, as did Matilda. Standing a few feet away from him was Isaacs, the Corporate VIP he'd seen earlier.

"Where have you been?" HUNK demanded, then remembered to add, "Sir."

"Watching your little gun battle. I must say, I am a little disappointed by the performance of the USS. I was led by their Director to believe they would perform better."

"You mean _you_ told them to kill us?" HUNK asked. He was a disciplined man; Matilda was still aimed at Isaac's head, but HUNK hadn't pulled the trigger. Yet.

Isaacs nodded. "Yes. There are some secrets that are, shall we say, too dangerous to be kept. Secrets that must be killed over. You understand, I trust?"

HUNK ignored the question. He knew it didn't matter what he said. "You said I couldn't save him. Why not? This isn't a fatal wound."

"No, it probably wouldn't be normally. But that's their favorite spot to bite. He's got the virus in him. It will only be a matter of time before he reanimates, like the worker."

"Reanimates? What are you-?"

"Reanimated" repeated Isaacs. "Back from the dead. Resurrected, if you prefer."

"What?"

"Look at the worker" instructed Isaacs. "You'll see what I mean."

HUNK did as he was told. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, at first. Then, he noticed that the body was still moving. "What the devil?" he muttered, leaning forward.

"Careful!" shouted Isaacs. "You mustn't let it bite you."

HUNK filed that bit of advice away as, then realized what he was seeing. The worker, whose neck was quite clearly still broken, was also still alive. His jaws were working open and closed, open and closed, as he tried to bite him.

"I shot him, then I broke his neck. He should be dead."

Isaacs nodded. "So he should. But, he isn't, is he?"

GOBLIN made their way over to him at that point.

"What happened?" GOBLIN 6 asked, before she saw the body. When she did, she gasped. "What the-"

"Not very pretty, is it?" HUNK asked. He looked over at Isaacs. "I give up. What is it?"

"A zombie."

GOBLIN 9 snorted. He couldn't see the man stilling moving, and had missed the one sighted shootout. "A zombie? Bullshit." GOBLIN 6 and HUNK both looked at him. "Well, it is, isn't it?" he said, defensively.

"A zombie" HUNK repeated. "How do I kill it?"

"The same way you killed the chipmunk earlier" Isaacs replied. "Destroy its head."

HUNK looked down at the paralyzed worker. Then he brought his boot down on its face. He did so again and again, even after he felt bone crunch beneath his foot. When he stopped, the jaws weren't working anymore. HUNK would have been surprised if they had even been able to, when the entire face was caved in. Then he looked over at Isaacs.

The Doctor shrugged. "Crude, but effective."

HUNK pointed to the USS. "What about him?"

"He can't be saved. There's only one thing for you to do."

GOBLIN 6 watched as HUNK clicked Matilda to semi-automatic. "What are you doing?" she asked, following him over to the wounded mercenary.

HUNK ignored her. Instead, he looked down at the USS. He was pale and breathing heavily; his blood had slowed down. He wasn't in good shape, but his still looked around. His eyes met HUNK's, and the UBCS saw that the other man _knew_ what was coming. A look of relief came over his features.

"_Dosvidania_" HUNK said, and pulled the trigger.


	9. The Night Begins

Chapter 9

The Night Begins

(ENRICO)

He heard the scream before he saw anything. It was high-pitched and terrifying, but reminded him of the lizards he'd seen underneath the Umbrella labs. He headed toward them. Whatever it was, it would be better for Enrico to get the drop on it than have it get the drop on _him._

There was some sort of out building in front of him, and that was where Enrico thought the sound had come from. He couldn't be sure, though; in the cool night air, it was easy for sound to echo.

Then he saw the huge shape standing on the porch, and his heart actually seemed to stop for a beat.

Whatever the thing was, it wasn't something Enrico particularly wanted to mess with. It was huge and hunched, like the monster that haunted the cathedral in that awful book he'd read in French class back in college. Except, he didn't think the Hunchback of Notre Dame had big tentacles coming out of his back.

Enrico was backing away slowly when he realized what the monster was leaning over. _Wonderful_ he thought irritably. It was Dawson, and he was quite clearly unconscious. Lord only knew _what_ the monster was going to drag him off and do to him, but Enrico doubted it would be anything friendly.

Enrico brought the AUG up, sighting in along the weapon's integrated scope. The 5.56mm wasn't very powerful and tended to over penetrate, but it was the longest range weapon he had.

He fired controlled, three round bursts. The M16 he'd used in Vietnam had been permanently set to triple round burst, and while the weapon had its flaws, that wasn't one of them.

He saw the bullets strike the creature's hump shaped back…flatten, and clatter to the ground. So far as he could see, he hadn't even scratched the thing. _Wonderful_.

The thing turned and let out another screech. Its tentacles flailed wildly over its head as it waddled toward him, smashing through the rail on the out building's porch.

Enrico emptied the rest of his AUG's magazine into the creature, ejected the spent one, and reached for a fresh one. He wasn't fast enough.

The monster slammed into him, smacking him with what looked like an enormous manacle and sending him flying backwards. Enrico landed hard on top of the AUG and felt its barrel bend under his weight. _Oh, not good._

The creature came for him again, at the same speed as before. Enrico drew his Samurai Edge and emptied all fifteen shots into the creature without any more reaction than he'd gotten from the AUG. He replaced that weapon, then drew the M1911 and fired.

The .45 struck the creature's leg, and it collapsed hard, bellowing in pain. Enrico suspected he had been on the job too long; that scream sounded rather effeminate.

The creature struggled back to its feet, then its body shuddered under multiple impacts. Enrico took that as an opportunity to shoot the creature in the face with the Colt, then get away.

Another darting figure ran away from the house, moving parallel to him. Enrico saw that it was Dawson, the young SWAT operative's P90 in his hands.

"Are you okay?" Enrico asked, looking the young man over. He didn't _look_ hurt, but you never knew…

But Dawson nodded…then looked as though that had been a bad idea. "Yeah. Just, my head hurts like a…It hurts a lot."

Enrico could understand that; the manacles the monster had hit him with certainly were solid. He decided Dawson was lucky the thing hadn't busted his egg open for him. That could have happened, and there wouldn't have been anything to do about it. Enrico had seen such things happen in Vietnam; there wasn't a whole lot that could be done for someone whose brain decided to leave their head and seek new residence.

There wasn't much time for thinking at the moment, though. With an angry shriek, the monster recovered its footing and came after them. Enrico had the unsettling thought that perhaps the only way for them to get it to leave them alone would be to kill it. It was relentless.

Dawson spun around as he ran, bringing the P90 up to his shoulder and firing a short burst into the thing. "Yeah, you like that don't you?" he shouted. "Well here, have some more!"

"Conserve your ammo!" Enrico shouted at him. "We're gonna need all we have. If that thing catches up to us, we're gonna be in trouble."

Dawson almost looked as though he wanted to argue. Almost. But he nodded. "Okay, sir. Let's get going then."

They came upon some sort of retaining wall, seven feet high and actually darker than the night sky above it. The wall stretched in both directions, and Enrico wasn't terribly interested in looking for a way around it.

He turned to Dawson. "We'll have to climb over."  
Enrico's eyesight had adjusted to the almost darkness enough that he could see the look Dawson gave him. "You want to _climb_ this thing?"

"You have any better ideas?"

Dawson shrugged. "I guess not."

"Great" said Enrico. "Then over the top we go." Without waiting for Dawson, he holstered the Colt, grabbed a tangle of vies that ran up and down the wall, and started his ascent. Dawson stood there for a moment longer, then followed.

They made it over the top by the time the monster arrived. It sounded genuinely hurt that they had managed to give it the slip. It stood there, screaming at them like a lost soul.

"There's nothing for it" Dawson said, giving the creature a nervous look. "If she wants to, she can probably jump up here after us. We'll have to jump."

The first thing Enrico realized was that it wasn't just him; the thing was distinctly effeminate. Then he heard the rest of what Dawson has said, and it occurred to him that, with his aged and weather knees, dropping off the side of a wall seven feet down was probably not such a good idea.

Dawson wasn't waiting around. Enrico decided he couldn't hold that against him; _he_ had started climbing without giving Dawson a second glance earlier.

Dawson dropped down from the wall into the darkness below. Enrico heard a dull thump, which indicated the other police officer had hit the ground. Then the flashlight mounted on his P90 lit up, showing Enrico were Dawson had landed.

He was a lot farther down than he had expected.

"Come on, sir!" he shouted up to Enrico. "You can do it."

"Easy for you to say" muttered Enrico, a second before he too let go of the wall and fell into the darkness.

It was more than seven feet to the ground. A lot more. When he finally hit the ground, Enrico remembered to roll forward, absorbing the impact without too much damage to his legs. All the same, the pains that _did_ shoot through them were enough to convince him that a repeat performance of that maneuver would be unwise.

The sudden scream from over their heads made all thoughts of physical discomfort leave his head.

"Somebody's not very happy with us" Dawson muttered.

Enrico nodded. "Let's get moving, before she decides to come pay us a visit."

"Yes sir" said Dawson. "Just lead the way."

Enrico did just that. They explored the walled in section they'd discovered, mostly looking for a way out, but also eager to find any of their teammates. At last, they came to a medium sized lift; an open service elevator.

"What do you think this is?" Dawson asked.

"I have no idea" replied Enrico. "But it might be a good idea to search it before we leave. There might be someone down there who needs help, or some clue as to what exactly this place is."

"Probably some connection to Umbrella, judging by the monster running around outside" Dawson said. He and Enrico compared notes on the pharmaceutical mega corporation for a few minutes as the elevator went down. By the end of their journey, Enrico was already fairly certain he knew what the Company had been up to. If the zombies were experiments gone wrong, then everything that had happened was Umbrella's doing. Even Bravo team's helicopter crash could have been engineered by the Company. After all, the STARS had discovered the truth here in the Arklay Forest. Maybe they were supposed to have been killed…

Out of nowhere, a dark shape leapt out of the tunnel he and Dawson had stepped into. It was heading for the SWAT operative; the light on the P90 gave away his position. Enrico stepped between them, and took the vicious slash aimed at Dawson's legs.

Big, sharp claws swept across the Enrico's hamstrings, and he knew pain the likes of which were unimaginable. With a cry, he fell to his knees, then onto his face. He felt blood flowing wet and warm down the backs of his legs, but he was in too much pain to do anything about that.

The next few seconds were a brutal dance of motion. Enrico saw the burst from Dawson's P90 and the flash of smooth, pinkish red skin. He heard an inhuman scream similar to what the lizard monsters in the Umbrella lab had made.

Then, the monster was gone. Enrico didn't see it; he assumed it had gotten a taste of the P90 and decided that once was more than enough.

Dawson bent down in front of him. "Are you all right, sir?"  
Enrico gritted his teeth as he nodded. "I'm still alive. That must count for something, right?" He tried to stand, but collapsed almost immediately. _Funny, how having yourself hamstrung will make it hard to stand up._

"Let me help you" said Dawson, putting Enrico's arm over his shoulder with the air of someone who had practice in the maneuver.

He carried Enrico a ways back into the caves, then leaned him up against the wall. "Let's have a look at you legs" he said, kneeling down beside the STARS captain.

He didn't need long to realize what had happened, and knew immediately that there was nothing he could do about it. Enrico could see it in the way Dawson's face went pale for a moment and in the set of his jaw.

"It's okay" he said. "I know you can't do much. I can bandage it up. I want you to go back upstairs and wait for Alpha team."

"But what about you?" Dawson asked, concerned.

"They're not too likely to find their way down here on their own, are they?" Enrico replied. "You have to go upstairs and wait for them. They'll be able to do more for me than you can." He pulled the Colt out of its holster and offered it. "Here, take this with you."

Dawson shook his head. "What about you?"

Enrico laid the Colt on his lap, then pulled out his Samurai Edge and chambered a round. "I'm not helpless" he said. "If that thing comes back, I won't be an easy meal, I'll tell you that." He put down the 9mm, then picked up the Colt again. "Now take it. It'll do more against that thing upstairs than your other handgun, and you might need the extra fire power."

Dawson looked reluctant, but took the .45. "I'll be back for you, I promise."

"I know" said Enrico. But he said it to Dawson's back. The kid was already long gone.

(REBECCA)

They had gone back into the Mansion. In all fairness, Rebecca decided there hadn't been much else they _could_ have done. Captain Enrico was quite clearly not in the entry way waiting for them, so logically he had to be somewhere else.

All the same, she felt safer inside that front hall. For reasons she couldn't explain, it felt like there was something evil inside the Mansion, but that one room was untouched. _Well, you know all about evil now, don't you?_ she thought to herself.

They had found a room full of medical supplies. Rebecca had taken a pair of aerosol cans with the Umbrella logo on their sides. Beneath that familiar, hateful pentagon was a name.

"Aquacure" Rebecca read aloud. She wasn't sure what it meant, so she turned the can over in her hands and began to read the ingredients. Suddenly it dawned on her. This was a heavy duty first aid spray. It must've been expensive, judging by half the things that were in it. But, Rebecca wouldn't have been surprised it could regenerate body cells. It certainly had everything in it the body needed to function, along with some powerful steroids.

Rebecca slid the two cans into her side pouch, then went back outside. She committed the room's location to memory. If need be, they could come back later for pretty much anything else. The room had been a rather extensive (if somewhat _old_) infirmary.

"We good to go?" Richard asked.

"Yeah. There wasn't really a whole lot in there to see. Just some first aid stuff. I took some of it with us. Fingers crossed, but we might need it."

Richard nodded. "Right. Better have it and not need it than need it and not have it."

"Exactly."

They headed down another hallway, and Rebecca caught a new odor, one she couldn't place. It was bitter, but not like the smell of rot from the zombies. This was more along the lines of death itself, and it made goose bumps run up and down her arms.

A picture worked its way off the wall behind them. It fell to the hardwood floor with a small crash, the glass frame cracking under the impact. Both STARS turned to look, but didn't think much of it.

Then another picture fell off the wall. And another. And another. Coming closer and closer to them. _It's like something is _inside_ the wall_ Rebecca thought. _Like it's pushing the pictures off the walls somehow…_

Richard thought things over for a minute, then grabbed Rebecca's arm. "Run!" he shouted, pulling her along. Behind them, pictures continued to fall at a much faster rate. And whatever it was, it was definitely following them.

Richard threw open a pair of large wooden doors, revealing a library on the other side. "C'mon!" he shouted, gesturing to her. "Let's get inside quickly!"

Rebecca didn't need second urging. There was a definite bulge in the wall. And it wasn't small.

The STARS slammed the door closed, as if that could stand against whatever was on the other side.

The thing didn't use the door. It just came through a premade hole in the wall.

Rebecca started firing before she even saw what the thing was. But her bullets had no effect on the giant snake, aside from making it angry. It hissed dangerously, swaying back and forth as it reared up to strike.

Rebecca felt her eyes drawn to its own. _It's just like my dream_ she thought, lowering the Samurai Edge. _I'm falling, just like I was then…_

Then something was between Rebecca and those mesmerizing eyes. At first she was irritated, but that quickly wore off.

"Back off!" Richard shouted, raising his shotgun. "Why don't you try this on?"  
He fired a blast into the thing's open mouth, causing it to recoil back in pain. Rebecca had enough time to realize that Richard had just saved her life.

Then the giant snake's head was coming down, and Richard was crying out in pain, dropping down to his knees and clutching his arm.

The snake took advantage of the lull to escape, slinking back into its hole. Rebecca didn't pay any attention to it. She was too worried about her teammate.

"Richard" she said softly. "Are you okay?"

Richard didn't look up from the vicious wound in his arm. "This is…not…good" he managed to get out from between gritted teeth.

"Are you feeling numb?" Rebecca asked.

"Yeah. It's like ice. Like sticking my body in a freezer. And it's spreading…"Richard cut off with a groan of pain.

Rebecca's mind raced. Richard was poisoned. There was no other explanation. The snake had gashed his arm with its fang when he'd shot it. The wound probably hadn't even been deliberate. If the snake had bitten him, he would've died.

As it was, he might die anyway. If Rebecca couldn't get help, then he would certainly. And she couldn't leave him. Richard was in no condition to defend himself; if she left, then the snake could come back and finish him off.

Rebecca pulled one of the first aid sprays out of her pouch and sprayed some on Richard's arm. To her amazement, a thin coating of foam began to form over the wound. She didn't expect that would cure him, but it would keep things from getting worse.

And as Rebecca collected Richard's shotgun and sat down, cross legged with it in her lap, she decided that was the best she could hope for.

(MAT)

Mat headed toward the Mansion. Alpha team _had_ to be on their way. If they were lucky, then the Alphas would have already found Bravo team's crash site and would be spreading out their search pattern around that. Although Mat didn't realize it, he had gone in a big circle after he left the chopper. The crash was much closer than he'd thought; only a few minutes away.

There were lights on inside the building, but no actual doors. Mat was at a loss as to how Enrico had left the Mansion; there didn't exactly seem to be a back door.

He was about to give up when he saw the green house.

The green house looked like it was a late addition to the main building, sticking out from the rest like some sort of transparent tumor. Mat could see inside, through the rather distorted and dirty windows. It didn't look like anything was waiting for him…

There was some sort of doggy door on the greenhouse. That had been forced open, like something had been desperately trying to get inside. Whatever it had been, it was gone now. Mat thought back to the infected dogs from the Hive uneasily. The things didn't get slow like the zombies; they just got mean.

Mat bent down and crawled through the open door. It was a tight fit, and his P90 tried to catch on the side, but he managed.

Once inside, Mat stood and brushed himself off. He'd collected several pieces of rotten wood and general grime from the door, and they were pretty gross feeling. Mat was more or less dry from the rain the previous night, but he would rather keep his clothes from rotting off his body.

It took him a minute to realize that he wasn't alone in the room. A subtle rustling from near the ceiling made him look.

Perched anywhere they could, row after row of crows sat watching him. Their gaze was uncomfortably…hungry.

Mat began to back away slowly, heading toward the door. He'd only taken a few steps, though, when it swung open and in stumbled Forest Speyer.

"Forest, shhh" Mat said, trying to keep the STARS from coming any closer. "The birds are infected. We gotta be quiet."  
But Forest didn't respond. He just kept walking, stumbling along. At first Mat thought he was somehow drunk, until he spoke. "I know all about them. They won't hurt us. Not yet. He said so."

"What are you talking about?" Mat asked, confused. "Who said so?"

"_He_ did" Forest replied, not caring that that didn't make things any clearer. "He said a lot of other things, too."

"What? What are you talking about?" Mat asked. Then he shook his head. Forest clearly wasn't with it. There was no way he was going to get any answers from the deranged STARS. "Never mind, we don't have time for this. We have to go look for the others-"

Mat started toward the door, but Forest jumped back, jerking out his Samurai Edge before Mat could react. "Back off!" he shouted, sliding the grenade launcher he had resting on one shoulder to the floor. "Back the fuck off!"

Mat raised his hands. "Take it easy man. We're on the same side here."  
"The hell we are!" Forest spat. "He told me what you've been up to. He told me all about how you went off toadying about for Umbrella. How you helped clean this mess up. How you let Edward and Kevin die."

"That's not true!" Mat exclaimed. "I couldn't save Edward, and Kevin was dead when I-"

"Shut up!" screamed Forest. "Shut the _fuck_ up!"  
Mat began to step to the side. Forest paralleled his motion, stepping away from the door but keeping Mat from getting close to him.

"He told me all about Umbrella" Forest explained. "How they took the work of others and used it to make monsters, how they had agents everywhere. Even inside the RPD!"

Mat blinked. "What? They have people inside the police force? Who?"

"Don't play stupid with me!" screamed Forest, spittle flying from his lips. The hand he held the Samurai Edge in trembled. "You know perfectly well who it is. You! _You're_ the traitor!"

"What? Are you out of you-"

"Back the fuck off!" shouted Forest, pulling the trigger. The bullet smashed through the window behind Mat, passing far too closely for comfort. Forest hadn't done that deliberately. He'd missed; he'd meant to shoot Mat.

"Forest, _calm down_" Mat said. "You need to come with me. We can find the others; we can work this out…"

"Fuck you!" Forest screamed. "Fuck you, you motherfucking traitor! We're not gonna find anyone! We're all gonna die here, in this place. Well, I'm not gonna make it easy for you or anybody else to shut me up!" With that, he tore away the tattered windbreaker he'd apparently worn since the previous night.

The first thing Mat noticed was that Forest's skin was slick. Unnaturally so. _Leeches_ he realized. _But, we killed them! Didn't we?_

But that was only a fleeting thought. Because strapped to every possible inch of Forest's tactical vest was a fragmentation grenade.

Mat's eyes widened. "Are you out of your mind?" he asked; a rhetorical question, since no sane person would strap so much firepower to themselves.

Forest took a step forward. "I'll blow us all to kingdom come!" he laughed maniacally, his eyes wild. "They won't make me into one of those freaks! No way!"

"Forest," said Mat, taking a cautious step forward as he reached for Rain's knife, still in its sheath, "let me help you get that off."

Forest let out an angry scream and fired the Samurai Edge. Mat felt something hot and fast slam into his right shoulder, causing his fingers to suddenly go numb. He dropped to his knees, the knife wobbling in the floor where it had driven itself. He brought a hand to the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

"You were gonna knife me?" Forest screamed. "You think that'll work, you piece of shit?" He raised the Samurai Edge and aimed it at Mat's head. "Well, I'll blow your fucking brains out!"

Mat closed his eyes, waiting for the sound of the gunshot, the last sound he'd ever hear. He'd heard that people's lives flashed before their eyes in these types of situations, but it didn't seem that way to him. Everything just slowed down, and became clearer. The throbbing numbness in his arm, the warmth of his blood on his hand. Mat found himself wishing Rebecca was here, then kicked himself mentally. That was the first time he'd thought of her in hours…

The gunshot never came.

Instead, Forest began to scream in pain. Mat looked up to see him writhing about, flailing his arms as he tried to ward off the birds that had suddenly descended on him. He fell onto his back, rolling back and forth as he screamed incomprehensible cries of pain.

Slowly, painfully, Mat drew his Browning HP. He fired it just over Forest's body, causing the birds to scatter.

When they did, Mat saw Forest…or what was left of him. There wasn't much.

Mat shook his head. "You crazy fool."

The birds returned to their perches, watching him coldly. Mat watched them in turn as he made his way out of the greenhouse, hand clasped against the wound in his arm.

He stumbled once as he got into the hallway, but recovered. The second time, he crashed to his knees and forced himself back up.

He had a job to do, and he was going to see it done. Until then, he had to keep going.


	10. Ends and Beginnings

Chapter 10

Ends and Beginnings

(HUNK)

He lowered Matilda, then looked over at Doctor Isaacs. "We have an impasse here, wouldn't you say?"

Isaacs nodded. "I can see that it might have been a mistake to attempt to liquidate you. You have a great deal of potential, as a soldier and as a member of the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasures Force."

HUNK shrugged. "That's all well and good, but you were all ready and willing to kill us earlier. How do I know you won't try again?"

Isaacs shrugged. "You and GOBLIN team are assets. The Company will use you, or use you up. But to kill you after I've seen what you're capable of would be a waste of talent." He shrugged. "And who knows how many USS personnel it would take to bring you down?"

"Yes" replied HUNK. "Who knows?"

A Sikorsky Black Hawk arrived and extracted the scientist and the surviving mercenaries. If the pilot was surprised at picking up the UBCS and not the USS, he didn't show it.

HUNK rode back to Raccoon City in silence. He kept running Doctor Isaac's words over and over inside his head. He guessed they were supposed to be reassuring. Somehow, he didn't find them so…

(WESKER)

Having spent the previous night inside the Company observation post, Wesker had headed home, taken a shower, changed, and then sat down in the easy that was the only furnishing of his apartment's front room.

Wesker didn't sleep. He might have dozed off every now and again, but sleep itself never found him.

The mirrored sunglasses he wore hid that fact. Wesker always wore them. They were a part of who he was.

When Wesker heard someone moving around in the apartment, he ignored the sound. The intruder would come to him soon enough.

He did just that, trying his hardest to creep up on Wesker from behind the chair.

"Really, William" he said, not moving. "I had expected better than this bad crime novel intrigue from you."

"Good God!" exclaimed Birkin, jumping back.

"Be that as it may, I doubt you've broken into my home to spread the Good News" Wesker said dryly. "Why are you here?"

"Sorry, Albert" said Birkin. "It's just that…you startled me, is all. Anyway, I was just here to see if you had returned and to ask after the fate of the labs…"

Wesker still didn't turn around. "You were much closer to the action, William. You must have a better idea of how things went that me. What have you heard?"

Giving up, Birkin made his way around the chair, so he could face Wesker. "Alright" he said, irritably. "I've heard things. Disturbing things."

"And those would be…?"

"The Company sent in a Cleanup team to the Hive's wreckage. Apparently they felt there were things worth salvaging. But they left the Trevor Mansion and UMTC undisturbed." Birkin's voice became panic stricken. "Albert, they let the experiments there to run around. They are letting _her_ run around."

"Are they now?" Wesker asked musingly. "That has some interesting possibilities…"

"I don't think you fully grasp the implications of this." Birkin sounded irritable. _He's panicking_ Wesker realized. _He's lost what little nerve he had._

"I grasp them fully, William, more fully than you yourself do" he replied. "You're afraid some of the experiments may get out and find their way into the city, correct?"

"That was a suggestion _you_ so kindly put in my head" Birkin answered quickly. "_You've_ been the one doomsdaying everything. _You've _been the one predicting how bad things will get."

"And _I've_ been right all this time, haven't I?" Wesker retorted.

"What do you plan to do?"

Wesker shrugged. It was the first time he'd moved during the entire conversation, and he enjoyed watching Birkin flinch. "I told you last night. Or was it this morning? I don't really recall." He shrugged again. "It doesn't matter. In any case, I'll take the STARS into the Mansion. They'll be wanting to go look for their wayward comrades, and the Mansion will be where the more dangerous subjects reside. I can allow the Company to test the BOWs against skilled professional soldiers, and with luck they'll kill or injure enough of the creatures to make their continued existence less of a threat."

Birkin didn't look wholly convinced. All the same, he didn't keep arguing. Instead, he pulled something out of his pocket. It took Wesker a moment to realize what it was.

"A hypo?" he asked. "What's that for?"

"It's something I've been playing with in my down time" replied Birkin. "Something I can do when I hit a block on the G-Virus."

"Wonderful" said Wesker. "What is it?"

"It's a performance enhancer" Birkin said. "But a very potent one. Essentially, it is a distillation of the Tyrant series BOW. Everything that makes them so dangerous, but in a convenient to induce container." He paused, then offered the hypo to Wesker. "I…I want you to take it with you. In case of the worst, it could be enough to jump start your system."

Behind the sunglasses, Wesker blinked. _William is being…_compassionate?_ How long has _that_ been going on?_ He took the hypo. "Thank you, William" he said. "But I hardly think it will be necessary. I'm not expecting to be in any excessive danger." He stood up and walked Birkin to the door.  
"All the same, I'd feel better if you took it with you" the other man said. "In case of the worst…You've always looking out for me, Albert. I guess that now is as good a time as any to return the favor."

Then he had stepped through the open door, and into the cool night air. Wesker watched him go, then looked down at his watch. _Almost time_.

**End**

**Well, that's the end of **_**The Next Day**_**. I hope to start work on the Mansion Incident soon. Until then, please review and let me know what you think of this. I've worked hard here, and so far this story has exactly one review. I'd like to know who all's been reading my story.\**

**Thanks**

**-Godzilalfan93**


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